Golden Days
by Wilhelmina Willoughby
Summary: L/J. A series of short vignettes. James and Lily like to appreciate the little things in life.
1. Bathroom

_Just a small vignette whereinJames takes the time to appreciate the little things that matter. This may become a series while I'm working on Quiet Summer, so keep an eye out on both! I hope you enjoy._

_As always,  
Mina :)_

* * *

It's dark when he wakes up and realizes that he really, really has to piss. Even while sleeping, she isn't so easily swayed, and he struggles with trying to be gentle in extricating himself from her arms. When she lets go, he nearly falls over as he trips over one of her shoes that's lying by his side of the bed. 

He stumbles into the hallway. There are still boxes everywhere and he's stubbed his toes on the pile near the bathroom door who knows how many times since they moved in, but the soft snoring coming from down the hall catches his shout and hides it away. It even covers his irritated grumble as the light above the mirror glares into his eyes, and when he turns his head and sees her razor sitting next to his on the edge of the tub, he has to lean back against the counter and stare. He can't hide his grin.

It's the smallest thing to be happy about. Her razor is a small, pink muggle one she bought when they went to the grocery store last week; his is an old, hefty thing his parents gave him when he turned thirteen, even though he hardly uses it because, well, facial hair refuses to grow on his face. But they're sitting there, together, right next to his shampoo and her citrus body wash, and he wants to cry because it's so right.

Sometimes he can't believe how easy it came to them, this being together thing. Their bathrobes are hanging on the same hook on the door. Sometimes he'll hide them just so that she'll have to walk the hallway naked and glare at him as she goes by. (Sometimes, though, she'll wink, and he just has to take that chance.) Next to the sink, her toothbrush is leaning against his and she's put a potpourri thing on the back of the toilet, something Sirius made fun of him about when he visited, but he can't complain: his bathroom actually smells good. And there are little towels on a rack that he's not allowed to touch because apparently they're only "for show." The last time he tried to use one she hexed his hands together and refused to counter it until the next day. But there were flowers on her nightstand by that night and she gave him a little extra _dessert _in appreciation, so he couldn't complain.

He steps into the hallway – _"Bloody troll testicle!" – _and hops the rest of the way to their bedroom. It occurs to him as he's slipping back between the sheets that he never used the toilet like he meant to, but she's got her arm slung around his hips before his head even hits the pillow and he prefers not to go anywhere, bladder be damned.

It could be the way her hair somehow crawls into his mouth or the way she jams her icicle feet onto his calves for warmth, but he would rather be choking and cold than be anywhere else. He holds her tighter because he can, because she's here, because their stuff is mingling in the bathroom. It's the smallest thing to be happy about. But when she smiles in her sleep and, somehow, all arrogance aside, he guesses that she's dreaming of him, he knows that he can deal with her hexing and Sirius' teasing and stubbed toes, because it's all _so right._

* * *


	2. Love

_A/N: I am completely overwhelmed by the support thus far for both Quiet Summer and Golden Days. Thank you all so much for your reviews and favorites and alerts - and even if you haven't, thank you for reading in the first place! I can only hope to do our Lily and James justice, and I'm so very glad you're all enjoying. To Zayz, Rissa, and Vivphy: this one's for you :)_

_As always!  
Mina_

* * *

Lily loves James. She does. There was a time when she didn't – and they can joke about that now, thank God – but she doesn't like to think about it so much. They're here now. On days like today, when they can lie in bed together and just _be_, she can feel it. It's pleasant. It's not overwhelming or consuming or all those other words people try to use to explain love (not anymore, at least), but for her, it's nice and comforting. It's the way he twists a strand of her hair around his finger as they laze about on a Sunday afternoon. It's the way he rolls his eyes when she calls him beautiful, the way his chuckle rumbles against her chest when she leans in to brush a kiss against his shoulder. 

She does that now, but instead of pulling her closer like he normally does, he pushes her away, leans back, props his head on his elbow to stare. The look in his eyes is familiar only because she's seen it so often now that, even though she doesn't know what it means yet, she can recognize it. It's a little scary. He doesn't have his glasses on and the light makes the gold in his eyes glow. She puts her hand on his face to steady herself.

"James?" she whispers.

He doesn't say anything. He stares. Lily has never been self-conscious, but she pulls the sheet up around her bare chest and has the absurd thought that maybe there's something on her face. Her hand moves to wipe at her mouth but he pulls it away and stares at that, too. Her knuckles are bony and her fingernails are bitten off and her nail polish is hideously neglected, chipping off at odd angles and shapes, but he stares and stares and stares for so long that she pulls it away and hides it under her pillow. 

"James?" she whispers.

The light changes and the muscles near his mouth twitch and she can see that he's decided, now. This is something she's familiar with, that set of his jaw and that shape of his mouth. He leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to her lips before moving around to grab something off of the end table. It's kind of hot in their bedroom and the window's open and her eyes are drawn to the curve of his back as he stretches, watching almost reverently the way his muscles pull and dance underneath his skin. He turns to face her and she's glad she doesn't have to pretend that she wasn't looking.

He doesn't say anything. He places his closed hand, his fingers facing the ceiling, between them on the sheets. She watches him for a moment, watches him watching her, and then, slowly, like a flower uncurling after a long, long night to welcome the sun, his fingers unfold.

There, in the center of his palm, is a ring.

* * *


	3. Dinner

_A/N: Quiet Summer is giving me a headache, so while I procrastinate and do everything but work on that next chapter, I'll post this thing. Ahh, Marauders, the things you do to my heart..._

_Enjoy!_

_As always,  
Mina :)_

* * *

It's scary how well Sirius gets along with her child, but then, she supposes, that's because he's a little like a child himself. The thought makes her sad. She's got four grown men and a baby to feed and she doesn't want there to be a day when she won't be able to see them all grow up around her kitchen table. It surprises her, how easy and fierce motherhood is, especially when Sirius almost drops Harry and panic rises in her throat, thick and suffocating. He sits the baby upright, of course, but still. She sets the timer on the oven and sits down to give herself a moment to breathe.

"You worry too much," James says, swooping in to kiss her forehead and steal a dinner biscuit from behind her back before prancing off into the living room.

She does. She knows it. He thinks he's so smooth when he disguises the worry lines in his face as those of laughter, but she knows that he's just as scared. His best mates are out there fighting and he's stuck at home with a wife and a baby. It's not fair to compare the two, she knows that, but sometimes when Harry's asleep and Lily sneaks into the kitchen for a glass of water and sees him sitting in the living room, staring at the fire, she feels guilty. She wants to fight just as much as James does. She wants to feel useful, like they're doing something for the cause. But they have a baby now. Maybe if life weren't so fucked up on the outside they could be happy in their little house with a cat and a porch, but she's _trying._

The timer goes off. There's a second of silence between the echo dying out and her chair sliding against the laminate when Sirius comes tearing into the room with her baby under his arm like a Quaffle. Harry's giggling up a storm and Sirius' grin is a mile wide, so she lets the reprimand die on her lips, focusing instead on taking dinner out of the oven and not on the urge to kill.

Remus steals into the room quietly with James fast behind. They sit at the table and discuss the _Prophet_ and the prophecy while she busies herself at the counter, trying to tune them out. _Sometimes it's too much_, she thinks to herself as she pulls plates and silverware and glasses out of the cabinets and drawers that she and James painted last week. She likes this time of day, when she can be a housewife and pretend like nothing's going on outside of their little house, when she can make dinner for her family and pretend like this is what she wants to be doing for the rest of her life. She brings the plates to the table and almost sets a place for Peter before she remembers that he's been absent from dinner for quite a while. She misses his shy smile and the way he'd always say "please" and "thanks, Lily." Now it's left to Remus to show her boys how to be polite and she guesses that'll have to do for now.

Sirius looks up at her pleadingly as she ties a bib around Harry's neck, so she summons one from the laundry room and ties one around his neck, too. It says _I'm a big boy!_ and a pouting Harry flings a handful of applesauce at him as if he's jealous. The table breaks into laughter. Lily's heart swells.

"Oh, don't frown, Mini Prongs," Sirius says, because he hates more than anything to be the cause of his godson's unhappiness. He pauses for a moment, then brings his face close to Harry's and blows an absurdly large spit bubble. Harry claps in glee; James hoots and thumps Sirius on the shoulder, acutely aware that his wife is standing right behind him, glaring, but the look on his kid's face is _so_ worth it; and Remus just shakes his head, because he knows full well that there's nothing he or Lily can do. His best friends are still eleven years old and Lily's well into middle age. She should know better.

Still, she's revolted when the spit bubble pops all over her son's face. "You are such a pig," she declares to Sirius, swatting her husband on the back of the head and wiping the – ugh – _saliva_ off of Harry's forehead. She's kind of peeved, but Harry's smiling that gummy grin and even Remus is laughing in that quiet way he has, and they're eating the dinner she made like it's a feast from Hogwarts, so she stands back and watches and thinks, _We'll be okay._

* * *


	4. News

_A/N: I have not been procrastinating, I swear. Chapter four of Quiet Summer is written and ready, I'm just waiting for my lovely beta, Zayz, to get back to me. It should be up tomorrow! (Sorry, Viv!) But Marauder inspiration strikes at random, and I'm here to please :)_

_As always!  
Mina_

* * *

Sirius looks like he's been smashed in the face with a brick.

"Really, Padfoot," Lily says, starting to get nervous. He's been standing at the foot of the stairs for a few minutes now, staring alternately between James and her hand. She'd laugh if she weren't so worried. James isn't letting go of her right hand and Sirius is hardly breathing, so she figures they'll just have to wait it out, whatever it is that's got his jaw stuck like that.

"You're getting married?" he finally manages to ask.

Lily nods, and she can feel the ring there, second finger from the left. She glances over at James, but he and Sirius are watching one another now, this weird energy springing up between them. It's… God, they're just _staring_, and it's strange, and Lily doesn't know what to do. A joke about the two of them getting married stalls on her tongue when she looks at Sirius harder – just a little squint, a tilt of her head – and sees that, yes, right there, on the bottom lids of his eyes, are tears.

Sirius Black is crying. He's crying, and Lily can't catch her breath fast enough to tell him it's okay, they can still have that threesome they were planning on, because James' hand disappears from hers and he and Sirius kind of run into each other in a mess of elbows and black hair and bandages. She pulls her own arms in to hold herself because they're making her teary, standing there in the middle of her living room, embracing. She can't catch their whispers. She doesn't want to. She just watches. They've always been affectionate men and have never shied away from hugging one another when the time called for it, but this is different and she can't pinpoint exactly why. It's one of those things she'll never understand, something deep and distant, so very much brotherhood in every way imaginable.

And then Sirius lets go and comes for her.

"Lil." He wraps an arm around her little waist and buries a hand in her hair, pressing her face into his chest, and it's only when she squeezes him tight that she notices that he's shaking. He's _shaking_. It catches her off-guard; she needs to see James, needs to know where he is, so Sirius' ever-overwhelming emotions don't pull her under. She can barely see him over Sirius' shoulder, but when she watches him pull off his glasses and wipe his face on his sleeve, she has to turn away. Sirius' neck is right there, so she plants her forehead against the scar she gave him in their third year, and she breathes.

"You know you're my sister," Sirius grumbles.

She can feel his hand, big and warm, against her back. His heart, big and warm, is beatbeatbeating in his chest, thrumming alive through the pulse in his neck and tapping softly against her forehead. Her heart slows to offset his; his reaction is good, this is good, he's happy, she's happy, she's calm. He's her brother in every way imaginable, only the boulder lodged in her throat won't let her say it, so she grips him tighter, silently bids him to stop shaking, stop crying, because _she's_ the woman, dammit, and he's not supposed to cry.

She manages to murmur an "I love you" into his ear, and he murmurs a rough "I love you" into hers, so it's okay, he gets it. She pulls back. He kisses her on the forehead and starts to laugh. It's soft, at first, then grows into one of those maniacal cackles that he gets thrown into sometimes, the kind that, truth to be told, makes her fear for his sanity. And when James starts in, doubling over to grab his knees, she can't help but chuckle.

Sirius shakes his head, wiping tears of laughter, tears of happiness, from his face. "You're getting _married._"

She nods. There aren't words. They're getting married. She and James are getting _married_.

"I told you so," James sing-songs when he stops laughing. He walks – skips, really – across the room and takes Lily in his arms. His smirk is straight from the devil. "I told you so."

"Whatever," Sirius says, flopping down onto the couch. She glances down, deliriously happy and content and so, so blessed, to see his face. He looks dazed, as if he can't believe it. He probably can't. _She_ can't. James seems to be the only one grounded, but just barely, about ready to transfigure himself into a golden snitch and flit right up through the ceiling. She's embarrassed to claim a high-pitched squeal as hers when James suddenly flings her into a rapid, frenzied dance, their socks sliding on their wooden floors, singing "We're getting mar-ried! We're getting mar-ried!"

"Moony kicked me out, so I'm sleeping here tonight," Sirius interrupts, and before she can start to wonder if real brothers ever invite themselves over, she reminds herself that it doesn't even matter, because Sirius definitely would. James stops spinning and she leans against the wall, waiting for it to stop spinning, too. Sirius continues, "It'd be lovely if you two would mind keeping your shagging to a dull roar."

"I'll see what I can do," James says, winking lewdly.

Lily pretends to gag. But she _accidentally _forgets to put up a silencing charm on their room that night, and when they come downstairs the next morning and Sirius is nowhere to be found, it takes her and James quite a while to stop giggling.


	5. Baby

_A/N: Quiet Summer is kicking my ass right now. Here is some fluff to (hopefully) suffice :)_

_As always!  
Mina_

* * *

Lily wonders if this is what a panic attack feels like.

Her terrycloth bathrobe slips against the edge of the tub and she almost falls backwards, cracking her head against the porcelain soap dish attached to the wall. She grips the shower curtain to pull herself upright and imagines the scene that could've followed: James' white face as he found her unconscious and bleeding in the bathtub, and the horror in his eyes as St. Mungo's revealed her secret.

She lets her wand fall to the floor as she buries her face in her hands, the purple smoke already fading from the air.

_A baby._

There's a life growing inside of her. She can't… what if… she doesn't know if she's happy for this miracle or sad at the thought of bringing up a child in this dark, unforgiving world. She's a little breathless. She's a lot nauseous. She's anxious. She's scared. Her mother had a miscarriage before Petunia was born – is that inheritable? Is there a chance that she'll lose her baby, too?

_That's not anything to think about right now,_ she berates herself. But she can't help it. She pulls her robe open and presses her hand against her naked abdomen. Right there. Right under her palm is something she and James created, something they'll nurture and protect as best they can, something warm and growing and overwhelmingly tiny.

She smiles through her tears and picks her wand up off the floor. Sirius is at work, and she needs to figure herself out before she can even think about telling James, so she sends a Patronus to Remus. It's only a few short words – _I need you – _but she can't find the composure to say any more. They'll get him here fast, though, of that she is certain, and until then, she casts another pregnancy charm and sits on the edge of the bathtub in her pink robe and bites all her nails off and cries a little. She tries not to throw up what little lunch she was able to get down.

_I'm going to have a baby._

The front door slams against the wall downstairs. "Lily?" Remus calls. "Where are you?"

She feels bad for the unease in his voice. "I'm okay, Remus. I'm up here."

"What is it?" he asks when he arrives in the doorway of the bathroom. He's disheveled and his hair is a little windswept and his eyes are wide in concern, then embarrassment, as he sees that she's not completely covered up.

"Sorry," she mumbles, pulling her robe tighter around herself. She looks up at him with a loss for words. She feels a little like a lost dog, with big, swollen, teary eyes, tousled hair, defeated shoulders. It's pathetic, and if Remus wasn't, well, Remus, he'd probably have already backed out of the room.

Instead, he sits down on the toilet seat and smoothes the hair away from her face. "What's happened?"

Nothing comes out when she opens her mouth. _I'm pregnant. I'm going to have a child. You're going to be an uncle. James and I made a baby. I'm pregnant. _

"Is it James? Sirius? Peter?"

She shakes her head. She motions to her wand, sitting innocently on the mat underneath her feet, and hides her face as Remus makes a noise of understanding.

"_Prior Incantato,_" he says.

And then she hears him draw a breath. "Oh, Lily…"

It tightens her throat, the gentleness of his voice, and fat tears collect between her fingers. She's not sure what's wrong with her or why she's so emotional, and she kind of collapses into his chest when Remus kneels by her side and wraps his arms around her. He makes those little comforting "shh" sounds, "it's okay" and "you're fine" and "I'm here," and she nods and sobs and puts her palm against her stomach again. Her skin is taut and warm there, and she sniffles against Remus' neck as she pictures that distant future, months from now, when there will be a full-grown baby sleeping in her womb, the skin of her stomach stretching tight around it, a temporary shield against all the things she'll want to protect it from for the rest of her life.

So she says it aloud. "I'm pregnant."

Remus pulls back and stares at her for a long moment. "Are you happy?"

Of course he gets to the heart of things. She nods, because it's true; and then she shakes her head, because that's true, too. "I'm scared."

"Don't be," he says, picking himself up to sit beside her on the edge of tub. He puts an arm around her shoulders and she leans into him, infinitely glad that he came so quickly, that he didn't have to work today. "I take it you haven't told James yet."

"No. I – I just found out. Just now."

He nods. "This will work out. I know you're scared of You-Know-Who and everything that's going on, but we've got the Order. Nothing is going to touch you. Or," he says, looking down at her covered stomach, "your child."

"A baby," she whispers, shaking her head. "A _baby_, Remus."

"James is going to…" he trails off. There's a joyful light in his eyes, one she hasn't seen in a while. He looks at her and smiles. "James is going to lose his mind."

She laughs, pulling his hand into hers. "Thank you."

They sit like that for a while. Her tears dry up eventually, and her heart, a maelstrom of emotions and thoughts, grows nervous as the time James' shift ends grows near.

"Lily?"

Remus shakes his head as James' frantic voice echoes up the staircase. "Five, four, three…"

"Lily, why is the door hanging on one hinge? And why…" he trails off as he rushes past the door, then turns back to see his wife and one of his best mates sitting in the bathroom, looking as if somebody died. Again.

"Who is it?" he asks, dread settling low in the pit of his stomach.

Remus stands and leans down to kiss Lily on the forehead. "This will work out," he says again, squeezing her shoulder.

James is confused. Remus smiles that bloody infuriating, enigmatic little smile he has as he passes James in the doorway, and he can hear Remus repairing the door and clicking the locks shut as he leaves.

"What's going on?"

"James," Lily says, standing up.

She unties that belt from around her waist and James is still confused as she walks towards him. Her robe slides open a little – and, okay, is this not the most twisted turn of events – and when she reaches him, she takes his hand and places it on her stomach.

He frowns. "What – "

And then it makes sense. Her wand's discarded on the floor of the bathroom. She's naked underneath her robe. She's teary. Her hand is on top of his, and it's not her stomach that she wanted him to feel, but something just a bit lower.

He feels like he's been kicked in the gut.

"No," he whispers. He involuntarily spreads his fingers wider across her small stomach. "Really?"

Lily nods, covering her trembling lips with her free hand.

"A baby?" he whispers, like she hasn't confirmed it already, like he can't feel it there, inside her, even though it's probably smaller than a speck of dust right now. She's so warm underneath his hand, and he stares at her soft skin, the little constellation of freckles next to her bellybutton, the scar on her hip. He pictures that distant future, months from now, when she'll be noticeably pregnant, when he'll spoon against her in their sleep with his hand splayed protectively against her belly, when he'll have to run out at all hours of the night to find her pickles and chocolate ice cream and banana peppers, when they'll have to buy cribs and bibs and formula. It's all there, right underneath his hand.

She puts her hands on his face. "We're having a baby."

"I love you," he says, pulling her to him. He slips his shaking hands inside her robe to feel her skin – never will it be close enough – and buries his face in her hair to hide the dampness in his eyes.

James wonders if his heart has ever felt this full before.

* * *


End file.
